


Our Turn

by SumOfAllThings



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe, Dystopia, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapped Stiles, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Slavery, Slow Build, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-08 05:32:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11075055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SumOfAllThings/pseuds/SumOfAllThings
Summary: Wolves and men have lived segregated lives for as long as everyone can remember. They stay in their territory and the human's respect their boundaries. It's a universally understood, unwritten law.Until one day the wolves decide they don't want to share the world with humans anymore. They want to own it. They want to own everything.





	1. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when you binge-watch ... 
> 
> :)

“They’re dangerous,” Noah said insistently, rising to his full height and eyeing everyone in the vicinity with an impressively alarming death glare. “And as of right now they’re loose in our town. That means we’re all under threat and that means a curfew. Everyone,” he turned around to look at Stiles. “And I do mean _everyone_ , is to return to their homes and stay there. Lock your doors, close all the windows and don’t come out again until after the full moon.”

“Where in the hell is the military?” Someone shouted from the crowd. Other people joined in, jostling one another as they tried to make themselves heard.

“Calm down,” Noah shouted, raising his arms in appeasement. “Panicking isn’t going to get help here any sooner. The army have been informed and people are on their way, but there’s been a bigger attack in San Francisco and right now, well they just don’t have the people to spare.”

“New York was attacked too. Hundreds are dead,” the woman next to Stiles cried. She was clutching her little girl like a lifeline. “What is happening?”

“I heard they’ve taken L.A,” someone else shouted, causing the hushed voices in the crowd to rise in renewed panic.

“They’re going to kill us all,” someone screamed.

People started pushing one another, shouting and heading towards the exit in a rush. One second Stiles was standing up and then he was lying flat on his back. He threw his hands over his head, pretty sure he was about to be crushed when he heard the deafening boom of a gun.

“No one is going to die,” Noah bellowed, his voice shaking. Stiles got unsteadily to his feet and didn’t miss the relieved look on the sheriff's face. “Not as long as you do as I say. Now everyone, stop panicking and head towards the exits in an orderly fashion. Return to your homes, lock your doors and stay inside. If you need help call us and we’ll be there. You have my word.”

One of Stiles’s neighbours stepped forward. He was an older guy, ex-military, used to scare the shit out of him when he was a kid. “You can’t know we’re safe. Those beasts are everywhere, thousands of them hiding among us,” his eyes travelled slowly over the crowd, before settling on Noah. “Hiding it’s going to help us sheriff. Those things, they’re taking over. They’re taking over everything.”

His words were met with near silence. A baby started to cry. The rooms burst into panicked, hushed whispers as the crowd headed towards the exit. Stiles followed, attempting to slip away in the confusion. Just when he thought he might be in the clear he was jerked back by his nape and stumbled into the sheriff's chest.

“Hi Dad,” he said brightly, grinning as he tried to subtly twist out of his grasp. He didn’t get very far before he was hoisted onto his tiptoes. “Everything OK?”

Noah expression looked pained. “Where are you going?”

“Uh, home?”

“Our home or your apartment?”

Stiles could actually feel his eyes roll. “I was heading back to my home dad. Because I’m, you know, twenty-seven.”

“I don’t want you going back there alone. It’s too dangerous. Go back to the house and stay there. For the night at least.”

“Oh my God,” Stiles groaned, gesturing wildly to himself. “Do you see this? This is a grown man right here. A manly man person with his own job and house and everything. I don’t need to -”

Noah shook him a little. “Stiles please. It’s bad out there. Really, really bad and if I’m going to make it through the night I need to know you’re safe. So please, for me, go home.”

Stiles threw his hands up in disgust and shrugged. “Gah, fine! Fine Dad, Jesus you win. I’m going home,” when Noah’s grasp tightened Stiles felt himself deflate. “Our home. I’m going back to _our home_.”

“Straight back Stiles. No messing around and no stopping for anyone or anything.”

“Yeah I got it,” Stiles grumbled, pulling his hoodie on straight before taking a few steps towards the exit. He stopped abruptly, turning around and throwing his arms around his dad’s neck. “You be careful, OK? You’re not as young as you used to be.”

Noah smiled tiredly, hugging him back with considerable force . “Go home Stiles. Try not to crash into anything on the way there.”

Feeling utterly insulted, after all that tree last week had come out of _nowhere_ , Stiles headed towards the parking lot. It was pretty much deserted but a few cops were still milling about. Stiles could see his dad staring at him from the doorway.

He waved once before climbing into his jeep and pulling carefully out of the lot. Jesus, he felt exhausted. A twelve hour shift at the hospital, followed by a town wide emergency and a meeting at the police station was too much, even for someone with as much energy as Stiles.

Thankfully it wasn’t too far to his dad’s house and we was home in under fifteen minutes. It was eerily quiet outside. Everyone had obviously taken the sheriff's advice to heart and were holed up in their homes with the lights off and the doors locked.

Stiles parked as close to the house as physically possible before sliding out of the car. He heard a howl in the distance and predictably slipped and fell on his ass, scraping his elbow and hand as he hit the ground. “Ow,” he said a little miserably before picking himself back up and hurrying to the front door. He heard another howl, this one further in the distance. “Thank God,” he whispered, fishing out his keys.

“That looks pretty nasty,” a bright voice said, practically in Stiles ear.

He released an extremely manly shriek and threw his back against the door so hard his head rebounded with a painful thud. “Holy fucking Christ, what the hell are you doing?” He shouted, pressing his hand against his heart in an attempt to stop it hammering out of his chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

The other guy was about his height but ripped. He had a pleasant, handsome face with hazel eyes and brown, styled hair. He smiled rakishly. “Sorry, just wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt”

“What? Oh, oh year. Don’t worry about it. I fall over all the time,” the other guy was still staring at him. Now that Stiles had the opportunity to calm down a little he realised that the dude was definitely in his personal bubble. “Um, you wanna maybe back up a little?”

The smile widened. “I’m Scott.”

“Yeah?” Stiles said, fumbling for his keys. “That’s uh, that’s great. Anywho, I gotta be goin now. You heard what the sheriff said about staying inside -”

“You smell like him,” Scott said, leaning even closer and honest-to-god _sniffing him_. “The Sheriff I mean.”

“I smell like -” Stiles trailed off as he felt all the blood drain from his face. He heard rattling and realised it was the keys grasped in his fist. “I - i,”

“You’re related to him, right?” Scott pressed his arms on either side of Stiles head and leaned in close. Way too close. His nose pressed against Stiles throat and he inhaled deeply. “There’s something else too. Something special.”

“I’ll fucking scream,” Stiles said, only a little hysterically. “I mean it. I’ll scream my freaking head off. Everyone in the street will hear -”

“And they’ll stay inside, just like your,” he paused, pulling back enough to meet Stile’s eyes. “Dad? Yeah, just like your dad told them to.”

“Oh God,” Stiles said, trying to press himself back through the door and into his dad’s familiar, safe house. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Why would I kill you?” Scott asked, that same charming, hapless smile on his face. “You’re not a threat, are you?”

“No,” Stiles breathed, shaking his head frantically. “I’m a nurse. I, I help people -”

“You mean you help humans. You ever help a werewolf?”

Stiles felt his eyes go wide. He was going to die. “I’ve never met a werewolf before.”

“Yeah, they like to keep us segregated, huh?”

“Please,” Stiles said, his hands hovering above Scott’s chest. “I know you guys haven’t been treated...well. I know something’s happening now, among the werewolves. It’s all over the news. But I’m not -”

“Stiles,” Scott said, pressing a clawed finger over Stiles’s lips. “Shut up.”

“How-how do you know my name?”

Scott’s expression turned sympathetic. “We’re going to be leaving now Stiles.”

“No,” Stiles said, pushing as hard as he could against Scott’s chest. The other man didn’t move. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not going anywhere. I’m sure as hell not -”

Scott grabbed Stiles by the scruff and, quite simply, dragged him away from the house. So Stiles did the only thing he could. He screamed. He screamed his fucking head off until his voice was hoarse, and fuck his life but not a single person did a goddamn thing to help him.


	2. Stay

“You got any water?”

“Your throat hurting?” Scott asked, looking sympathetic. He didn’t slow down though and his grip on Stiles’s upper arm was really beginning to hurt.

“You got any or not?”

“Afraid not,” he paused, thoughtful. “I told you to stop screaming. You should have listened to me.”

Stiles was too tired to answer that with the enthusiastic shouting it warranted. “Well excuse me for not just coming along all quiet like. I guess I have this weird compulsion not to, you know, die.”

Scott sniggered. “You’re funny Stiles, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” he grumbled. He stumbled abruptly, staggering into Scott’s back. “Can’t we slow down a little at least? I’m significantly lacking in werewolf endurance here. Plus, before you decided to kidnap me I’d just finished a really long shift at the hospital. With like zero breaks. I could -”

“You need me to carry you?” The other man interrupted, completely serious.

“Try it and I swear to God, I will find a way to murder you.”

Scott’s grip lessened for a moment before he threw Stiles a huge smile over his shoulder. “I’m sorry but we can’t afford to stop.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Stiles asked, exhausted enough that it came out more like a whine. He could feel tears prickling his eyes. Jesus, he absolutely refused to burst into tears in front of his kidnapper. “I mean, I’m a complete nobody.”

“You’re a lot of things Stiles, but you’re not a nobody.”

“Yeah, tell that to everyone I’ve ever met,” Stiles grumbled miserably. He stumbled again, managing to right himself before he fell on his ass. “What were you even doing at my house?”

“Waiting for your dad,” the other man said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Stiles dug his heels in so hard that Scott actually stumbled to a halt. “Why?” He demanded, already dreading the other man's answer.

Scott’s expression turned thoughtful even as his grip tightened. “He’s the town’s sheriff Stiles. _It’s alpha,_ ” he clarified when the smaller man continued to stare at him. “Why do you think?”

Stiles felt the colour drain from his face. His vision started to grey around the edges, his whole body shook and he struggled to take in air. His legs crumpled and he keeled forward. “Don’t, don’t, hurt -”

_He couldn’t breathe._

“Hey, come on Stiles. Calm down for me, OK? Vaguely he realised Scott was knelt down next to him and was rubbing his back. “I’m not going to hurt your dad, OK? Please Stiles, you need to breathe. I swear I’m not going to hurt him. Come on, please calm down.”

“Back,” Stiles wheezed. “Get back.”

Surprisingly Scott backed off. Stiles fell down on his hands and knees and tried to concentrate on not suffocating. Oh God, he thought, barely noticing the sweat pouring off his face. They were going to kill his dad. His dad, the only person in the world he had left. And they were going to kill him. Stiles was trapped by some lunatic _and they were going to kill his dad._

He felt his arms collapse beneath him and then the world turned black.

**********

Stiles was light for a grown man. He was long-limbed though and a little awkward to carry. Scott managed, moving much faster since his new friend fainted. He looked up at the sky, mildly surprised to note the sun was rising.

Stiles chose that moment to start squirming. He groaned softly, the thick scent of his panic and fear still fresh. He jerked abruptly, seemingly aware of his surroundings before releasing a small whimper of pure distress. “I’m going to be sick."

Scott so _did not_ want human barf on his back. He dropped Stiles's to his feet and helped steady him before the other man started heaving. He obviously wasn’t lying about not eating the previous day because all that came up was bile. “OK, let it out,” Scott said, rubbing what he hoped was soothing circles on Stiles’s trembling back.

“My Dad?” Stiles breathed as he straightened up.

Scott wished he’d never mentioned the humans father. God, he was such an idiot sometimes. I mean, what had he expected?

“The sheriff’s fine Stiles. After all, I left, didn’t I?” He didn’t mention the others still in the town, everyone of them far more vicious than he’d ever be. “He’s OK.”

Stiles was human. He couldn’t sense Scott was lying.

“You swear?” He wheezed.

“I swear,” Scott said, trying for an unthreatening smile as his stomach knotted from the blatant deceit.

“He’s a good man,” Stiles said, seemingly no longer in danger of passing out or puking again. He was eyeing Scott with unfiltered hope. “I swear to God. He is. He just wants to help people.”

Human, Scott wanted to correct but he just took a gentle hold of Stiles’s arm and led him forward. “I know Stiles.”

Stiles went along with him for a little while before abruptly clearing his throat. “Scott, I really need a drink.”

“I know. Soon,” he promised.

Stiles stayed for quiet for about thirty seconds. “Where are we going exactly?”

“I have friends waiting for me. We’re nearly there.”

“Werewolf friends?” Stiles asked, anxiety pouring off him in waves.

“They’re not going to hurt you,” he said. Another lie. He would do what he could to contain the damage though. Stiles didn’t strike Scott as a violent human. So far he’d done very little to try and fight or defend himself, though that might have had more to do with common sense than a docile nature.

“And what happens then?”

Scott exhaled deeply. “You might not believe me Stiles but you’ll be better off this way. You don’t want to be in that town anymore. Not unclaimed.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Stiles asked, his heart hammering. “And what the hell is -”

Scott spun around and slapped his hand over Stiles’s mouth, silencing him. Other wolves were approaching. Not his pack but their scent was familiar. Scott inwardly groaned.

“What you got there kiddo?” Peter asked, stepping out in front of Derek, his smile sly. His expression soured, clearly picking up Stiles’s distress before morphing into a wide grin. “Well, well. Look like you caught yourself a baby spark.”

“He’s mine,”Scott growled, flashing his teeth. Stiles squeaked behind his hand.

“You want to fight us for him?” Peter offered.

“Not particularly,” Scott said, eyeing them warily before he made a decision and pushed Stiles onto his ass. “Stay,” he commanded, allowing his eyes to shift. The human cowered in response. He turned back to the two betas and took control of the wolf. “But I’m guessing you don't particularly care what I want.”

"Smart boy," Peter said, before pouncing.


	3. Silence

Stiles stayed statue still for about twenty seconds before the sound of tearing flesh registered and his flight or fight response kicked in. He scooted back, creating distance between himself and the two new attackers.

He stood up slowly, stepping back on shaking legs. He watched the older one throw Scott against a tree and heard a sickening crunch. Scary eyes turned to smirk at him before pouncing on Scott, his claws raking down the younger wolf's chest. Scott screamed in clear agony, unsuccessfully trying to scramble free as the older one gripped his wrist and twisted.

 _Time to go_ , Stiles decided, turning on his heels and bolting as the resounding crack of broken bones echoed through the woods. Vaguely, he felt branches and thorns piercing his skin and tangling in his hair, impeding his process as he tried to work his way through the thick woodland foliage. Predictably he stumbled, falling down an incline and gaining speed until he fell into a freezing cold stream with a loud and painful splash.

He sat in a miserable huddle for a moment, wondering if he was hurt and debating if he should drink some of the water he was sat in. He decided against it, reasoning it wasn't worth the inevitable stomach cramps that would follow. It was tempting though as he didn’t think he had ever been so thirsty in his life. He forced himself to stand up and step out of the cold water, stumbling at the riverbank as he struggled to climb over the muddy embankment.

It took him a moment to register the tight grasp on his wrist before he was quite literally pulled off his feet and left dangling in the grasp of a tall, thin guy with light curly hair and a handsome, angular face. His eyes sparkled blue for a moment before he dropped Stiles to his feet, grabbing the back of his sopping jacket and shaking him.

“Where’s Scott?” He snarled, wolfing out as Stiles’s watched.

He didn’t bother trying to respond, pointing behind him with a shaking hand. A wolf howled in the distance and the guy let him go with a snarl before dashing off.

Stiles dropped to his hands and knees with a slightly hysterical laugh, trying to force down an impending panic attack that he knew would leave him utterly helpless. “What’s next?” He gasped, staring into the woods as he got back to his feet.

He heard another howl, close enough to make the hair on the back on his neck stand up on edge.

“Fuck my life,” he whispered and _yup_ , his eyes were streaming with tears. It was finally happening. He was crying like a baby. But, rather heroically he thought, he wasn't curling up into a sobbing mess of uselessness. He figured that had to count for something.

He didn’t even scream when a painful force knocked into him, sending him stumbling onto his stomach into the dirt. A familiar voice pressed very close to his ear as a clawed hand latched onto the back of his neck and forced his face into the mud. “I told you to stay,” Scott growled, sounding extremely pissed off.

“Go fuck yourself,” Stiles shouted, internally cringing at the way his voice cracked. “Get off me.”

Scott moved to his feet, pulling Stiles up with him. The other guy, the one with the angular face was stood beside him, his expression thoughtful as he looked over at Stiles. “He’s terrified,” he remarked, seemingly indifferent.

“I know,” Scott hissed, moving his hand to Stiles’s upper arm and tugging. “Come on, the others are waiting for us and I don’t want to run into anymore Hale’s if we can help it,” he looked thoughtfully at Stiles. “Hey, calm down. You're OK.”

“I’ve been better,” Stiles said, meeting his red burning eyes with as much courage as he could muster. He tried to pull his arm free but unsurprisingly didn’t succeed. “Could you maybe tell me what the fuck is going on?” He asked, aware of how small his voice suddenly sounded.

For a moment Scott looked uncertain, maybe even a little guilty. For five second Stiles entertained the idea that he might get away with his life. It didn’t last. He stumbled a little as he was pulled forward, but Scott steadied him, pulling Stiles flush against his side as they hurried through the woods at a much faster pace that Stiles was comfortable with.

“Is it because of my Dad?” Stiles asked, a little breathlessly. God, his throat _hurt_. “He doesn’t have any jurisdiction outside of town. Taking me isn’t going to gain you anything, except maybe an extremely overprotective parent figure on your asses.”

“Isaac, are they close?” Scott asked, totally ignoring Stiles.

“They should be waiting for us through the clearing,” Isaac said, also ignoring Stiles.

_Super._

“So you’re an Alpha?” He asked, just spitting out everything that popped into his head. “Is that how you managed to beat the other two? Were they betas?” He swallowed heavily. “Did you kill them?”

“Not today,” Scott said, shifting his grip a little and pulling Stiles even tighter into his side. His face suddenly lit up into a wide, bright smile. “Erica, Boid,” he said, as they came into a clearing where a beautiful young woman and huge black dude were stood waiting for them. “You guys are a sight for sore eyes.”

Scott pulled Stiles with him as he enveloped the woman in a hug, before briefly bumping his shoulder into the new dude.

“Who’s this?” Erica asked, wrinkling her nose at him.

“New spark,” Scott said, his red eyes flashing. “He’s mine,” he apparently felt the need to clarify.

“Seriously,” Stiles said, entirely uncaring how shrill he sounded. “You need to tell me what's going on. What the hell is a Spark?”

The four wolves looked at one another before, silently, deciding to ignore him. “Any trouble?” Erica asked. “We thought we heard something.”

“The Hales,” Scott said before flashing a brilliant smile. “We handled it.”

“Is it like some sort of Werewolf catnip or something?” Stiles persisted.

“What possessed them to come after you?” Boyd asked, his face intense.

Maybe if he kept going he'd annoy them enough that they couldn't ignore him. “Or is it more like a status thing? You know, because of my dad?”

“It's obviously because of the kid. Derek couldn't control himself,” Scott replied. 

“What the hell is a _SPARK_?” Stiles bellowed at the top of his lungs and they finally, _finally_ turned to look at him.

“Erica,” Scott said, looking at Stiles with what was clearly an amused expression on his dickish face. “Gag him.”

“Don’t,” Stiles yelped, stumbling as he was shoved into the woman's arms. Stiles watched her quite literally rip his jacket sleeve off and shred it before she grabbed his jaw and forced the material into his mouth. Before he could do more than grunt she bent him forward and tied a rag over his mouth, knotting it tightly around the back of his head.

Stiles immediately tried to tear the gag out of his mouth before Erica grabbed his wrist, squeezing the bone until Stiles collapsed to his knees. “You try and touch it again sweetie and I'll tie your hands,” she practically purred into his ear.

Stiles was dragged forward, entirely ignored as they talked around him. And he couldn't speak. _Jesus fuck, he couldn't speak._


	4. Shutting up

Once upon a time Stiles had considered becoming a sheriff like his father, back before he realised he possessed about as much aggression as a gerbal. He’d decided early on that he was a pacifist. He was the sort of man that knew how to turn the other cheek.

It made it all the more surprising that he had spent the last two hours imagining the various ways he could murder Scott and his merry band of fuckwhits. Like quite literally murder them, or at least seriously maim. Yeah, maiming would be better. But there would be blood and violence and…

He cringed, causing Erika to turn to him questioningly. So yeah, maybe not murder or maim, but definitely, like, fuck them up. Like deprive them on sleep for a few days. Yeah, that sounded better. Minimal blood but plenty of torment. Yeah, lock them in a bright room with loud, obnoxious music. Maybe Stiles could record a soundtrack just for them.

Jesus, he was tired. Tired and hurt and terrified. His wrist where Erika was holding onto him hurt. His feet chose that moment to buckle and he fell. It wasn’t the first time he’d fallen over and Scott just picked him back up, barely looking at him.

“Humans need rest,” Boyd noted, causing the group to look over at Stiles as if just remembering he was there.

Scott sighed softly. “They need water to. We need to get back to the car.”

Boyd shrugged but stepped closer to Stiles, grabbing him under his arm. “I got him,” he said to Erika who shrugged and released him.

“I’m going to carry you,” Boyd said. Stiles shook his head viciously but was unsurprisingly ignored as he was hoisted across the big man’s shoulders. 

So, back to maiming.

*********************

Stiles’s squirming had intensified to the point that he was practically crawling over Boyd’s shoulders. The big guy was handling it with his usual stoicism but Scott didn’t think anyone was more relieved to reach the car than he was. Scott unlocked the trunk and fetched the water before pulling Stiles off Boyd and depositing on the hood of the car. He stepped between the human's legs and allowed his eyes flash. It had the desired effect and Stiles instinctively shied away. 

“I’m going to loosen the gag. You start screaming or shouting again and it goes straight back on. Are we clear?”

Stiles nodded his head vigorously but immediately tried to pull away when Scott allowed his claws to grow. Inwardly rolling his eyes he tore the fabric and pulled it free from Stiles’s generous mouth.  
“Here,” he said, immediately holding out the water. Stiles grabbed it off him and started to desperately gulp it down. Scott felt a little guilty watching him but forced the feeling down as he turned to the group. “Get in. I want to get back to San Francisco like yesterday.”

He turned around to see Stiles had stopped drinking and was staring at him. Scott noted a little absently that he had very pretty amber coloured eyes. He would be worth a fortune to the right buyer. “Why are we going to San Francisco?” He asked in a small voice.

Scott grabbed him by his trim waist and pulled him to his feet. “Because that’s where home is.”

“It’s a warzone,” Stiles said, unsubtly trying to wiggle free. 

“Not anymore Bambi,” Erika said brightly, grabbing Stiles by the arm and shoving him into the back seat of the car so he was sitting between her and Isaac. “Now, it’s home.”

Boyd took the wheel and Scott got shotgun. He looked at the rear view mirror and watched Stiles bite his lip.

“But what about,” he paused, his hands flailing. “What about the army? The people there?”

“The humans there you mean?” Scott growled, feeling little satisfaction in the spike of fear e could smell off Stiles. “Some of them are slaves, some of them ran away.”

“And the rest?” Stiles asked, clearly hesitant.

“Dead,” Erika said, flashing her teeth at Stiles in a grimace of a smile.

It wasn’t, unsurprisingly, the right thing to say. Stiles absolutely stank of terror and now they were all stuck in a small place together. His breathing grew laboured and Scott worried he was going to make himself faint again.

“Crack the windows,” Issac said, sounding miserable.

Thankfully after a few minutes he seemed to get himself under control, though Scott could see the way his body was shaking. It was a miserable thing to watch. 

“Please,” he said, his tone soft and his eyes fixed solidly on his knees. “Tell me why you’ve taken me?”

“Didn’t you hear Bambi,” Erika said, pressing her head into Stiles shoulder. “Dead, gone or slaves. Where do you think you fit in?”

“Slavery?” Stiles practically squeaked. “Seriously, slavery? I mean, seriously? You know people don’t look back too kindly on slavery? Like, at all. In fact it’s been abolished for hundreds of fucking years, because, you know. People. Were or human, we’re all fucking people.”

“Some of us are considered a little more superior than others,” Erika snarked.

“Yeah, you a fan of Hitler too?” Stiles snapped, jabbing his finger in her shoulder. “Because you sure as hell look like a nazi you crazy fuc -”

Scott managed to grab Erika’s fist before it connected with Stiles face, but it was a near thing. Stiles’s eyes were comically wide as he shrank into Issac, almost climbing in the other man’s lap in his haste to put space between himself and Erika.

“No hitting,” Scott growled, allowing his eyes to flash at Erika. She snarled but dropped her gaze. He turned back to Stiles. “Yes Stiles. Slavery is a thing. Has been for years, or is this news to you?”

“There were rumours of human trafficking, but,” Stiles shook his head. “Seriously dude, I really wouldn’t make a good slave. I have like crazy ADHT, right. And I’m a total clutz -”

“And you don’t know when to shut up,” Scott said, smiling at the indignant look in the other man’s eyes. 

“Yeah,” Stiles said, frowning. “That too.”

“Lucky for you we have the rest of your life to fix all that,” Erika said, placing her hand on Stiles’s knee and squeezing until he started to squirm. “Lesson number one. Learning when to shut up.”


	5. Calm

Stiles woke with a start. He realised blearily that he was half lying on someone when he remembered with painful clarity what had happened. He had decided to take his nap on Isaac, which probably explained why he hadn’t been shoved off. The other man was looking at him with a not entirely unkind smile on his stupidly handsome face. 

“You OK?” He asked.

“I have to pee,” Stiles said immediately. 

“Can you hold it?” Scott asked, with the sort of tone usually reserved for very small children.

“I have been holding it, for hours. But now it’s becoming an imminent issue. Can you pull over?”

“We’re makin good time,” Boyd said.

“It’s only been a few hours and we’re already catering for his needs,” Erika snapped.

“Better than letting him piss himself.” Boyd argued.

“Pull over,” Scott decided. When the car stopped he looked pointedly at Isaac, “Take him.”

Isaac rolled his eyes a little but pulled Stiles out of the car without arguing. “Don’t try anything stupid,” he warned, taking Stiles to the side of the road and staring at him.

“Me try something stupid? You’re talking to the king of great decisions here. Every action is carefully and meticulously thought out,” he realised he was unzipping and Isaac was still looking at him, “You wanna take a picture?” he snapped.

Isaac smirked a little but turned his back. And didn’t that beat all. He was that much of a non-threat.

So slavery, he mused as he finished and tucked himself back in. Him, a slave. A person owned by other people. By other werewolf people to be precise. Because apparently that was a thing.

Stiles was a twenty-seven year old man. He was a fucking adult. Big, strong adult men did not bawl their eyes out. He looked out into the woods and had a sudden, almost impossible to ignore urge to run.

“My dad has connections you know. He’ll find me.” Yeah, because big strong men totally relied on their daddies for protection. “You really don’t want to deal with the dude when he goes into protective mode. He’s like crazy.”

Your dad isn’t going to be able to help you Stiles,” Isaac said, his tone reasonable and maybe a little sympathetic. “Don’t you get it? The world as you knew it is ending. Pretty soon people like your dad won’t have any power to do anything anymore.”

There had been many, many moments in his life when Stiles should have kept his mouth closed. He felt that in a situation where he was being held prisoners by a bunch of buttcrazy, physcotic werewolves that being quiet was probably a sensible approach. And yet, as usual, Stiles had the self preservation of a knatt.

“So what? You’re just going to govern yourselves? Sounds like a great plan, if you don’t take in consideration your habit of tearing each others throats out. Sounds really fucking diplomatic -”

Stiles didn’t get to finish because Isaac had slapped his hand over his mouth and was flashing a pair of very blue eyes at him. “Stiles, remember rule number one? You need to learn to be quiet.”

Siles tried to tell him to go fuck himself but his words were muffled. Isaac rolled his eyes and dragged Stiles back towards the truck. He let go of his mouth and shoved him into the back seat, which of course sent him sprawling into Erika. He practically squeaked as he tried to back away but she grabbed him by the hair and actually pulled him into her side.

“You don’t have to look so horrified sweety,” she said, running her hand gently over his hair as he sat ramrod still beside her. “I’m just making sure you don’t start smelling too strongly of Isaac. We don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Stiles asked, trying to ignore the way his body was shaking. He did not want to sit next to her.

“People might be put off buying you if they think you already belong to someone else, but if you have all of our scents your buyers will realise you’re on the market. So just relax. I’m not going to do anything to you.”

“He’s trembling,” Isaac noted, frowning. “Here, give him back to me.”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said. He already smells too much like you Isaac. We need -”

Stiles realised he was crying. That his whole body was shaking with the force of his tears and that no one was talking.

“I want to go home,” because yeah, big strong man.

“For christ sake, someone give me the damn gag.”

“Give him to me,” Isaac snarled, grabbing onto Stiles’s hoody and dragging his across the carseat. “Just, calm down Stiles. You’re OK. Calm down.”

“Go fuck yourself,” because obviously he was going to yell at the one person being nice to him.

Vaguely he realised the car had stopped and then the door was opening. Erika slid rapidly out of the passangerseat and then Scott slipped in beside her. He dragged Stils back across the seat and wrapped his arm around Stiles’s shoulders, forcing him into Scott’s side. “Stiles, if you don’t calm down we’re going to put you in the trunk.”

The way he said it, in such a calm and gentle way made Stiles’s breath catch in his throat. He tried to straighten up but Scott’s arm was seriously restricting his movements.

“So, do you promise to calm down?”

Stiles didn’t trust is voice. He nodded against Scott’s shoulder.

“That’s really good Stiles,” Scott said, running his fingers through Stiles’s hair, petting him like a goddamn puppy. “You’re doing really well. Just be calm and you’ll be fine.”

He was still trembling and his breathing was coming in short gasps but he wasn’t struggling or crying out. Erica turned on the radio and for a while no one spoke.

“We’ll be in San Francisco soon,” Scott said, still stroking his hair. “And when we get there you can have a shower and sleep in a real bed.”

“And then what?” Stiles asked. He couldn’t help himself. He needed to know.

“We’ll worry about that when it happens. For now just keep doing what you’re doing.

Because that was going to happen.


	6. A Gift

Stiles spotted the golden gate bridge from the corner of his eyes and attempted to sit up. His back was killing him and his ADHT was making his whole body shake with the _need to move_. How long had he been crushed under Scott's arms anyway? It felt like hours.

“Settle down,” the alpha murdered, his eyes locked on the window as his hold tightened. Stiles released an embarrassing squeak and Erika laughed, the sound cruel and mocking.

Despite the fact that the other man was painfully stronger than him, in terms of their height difference, not so much. It was becoming unbearable and staying still wasn’t going to be an option for much longer. And then what? “Can I sit up?” he asked, hoping he sounded calm enough not to warrant being put in the trunk. The idea of being in an enclosed, airless space terrified him. “My back's aching.”

A few agonising seconds passed and Stiles was pretty sure he was being ignored again. Just when he thought he was about to spontaneously combust Scott abruptly let him go. Stiles immediately sat up and attempted to work out the various kinks in his shoulders and neck. He looked out of the window, getting a really good look at the approaching city. “Oh my God,” he gasped before he could insert his mouth to brain filter. He’d heard the rumours, everyone had, but he never dreamed it would so bad. “It’s -.”

“Totalled,” Isaac interrupted, his tone resigned.

The car slowed to a crawl before stopping. Stiles tensed, half thinking he was about to be put in the trunk after all, but Scott only stepped out of the car and opened the passenger side door, swapping seats with Erika.

They started moving again and Stiles eyes were glued to the approaching city. He’d so many pictures of it over the years that he’d built up a very clear image in his mind of how it would look. It was kind of devastating.

“And they expect us to stay here,” Erika said accusingly in his ear. “They think this should be enough. That we should be content to live in squalor.”

It looked like something from a war zone. Rubble, debris and abandoned cars littered the roadside. Hollow faced men, women and children stared hopelessly out into nothing. It was horrific. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “No one deserves to live like this.”

“You’re half right, Stiles,” Scott said in an easy, affable tone as his eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead. “My people, we don’t deserve to live like this. And pretty soon we’re not going to. Soon, the worlds going to be change. It’s already happening.”

“How does that only make me half right?” Stiles asked, even though he knew he should keep his mouth closed. _Don’t engage_ , he screamed at himself.

“Because when we’re finished the only humans left alive are either gonna be collared or they're gonna be driven out. And when that happens there’s only going to be one place left for them to go,” Stiles looked up at the rear-view mirror and realised Scott’s flashing red eyes were locked on him. He sucked in a deep breathe= and quickly looked away. “We’ll let the humans have the rubble and ruins. We’ll let them keep exactly what they gifted to us. No less and no more.”

Stiles’s self preservation kicked in for once and he bit his lip to stop from spitting out a scathing response. He didn’t want to give anyone an excuse to beat the crap out of him. He had the strong suspicion that spouting off about compassion and forgiveness would be completely lost on his abductors.

If anything, the city got worse the closer they got to their destination. It was dirty and grey and stunk to high hell. Graffiti covered every available space. An occasional still and sometimes bloody body littered the ground. The people stopped looking gaunt and started to look pretty fucking terrifying. Even as Stiles watched a man and woman burst out onto the street and started ripping into one another. Their car swerved easily around them, ignoring them.

“ _She just tore his throat out_ ,” Stiles gasped, his hand instinctively latching onto Isaac's wrist as he tried to peer over his shoulder. “He’d dying,” he said, pulling on the other man’s arm. “Do something.”

“He’ll be fine,” Scott said, eyes peering unnervingly at him again.

“Either that or he’ll learn not to piss off bigger, badder wolves,” Erika said, laughing as she looked pointedly between Stiles and Isaac. “Ah, I think the sweetie likes you best, Isaac. Maybe you shouldn’t tell him about that family of five you murdered a few months back. How they were screaming and -”

Stiles jumped away for Isaac, but of course that just put him closer to Erika. He went very still between them, hardly moving.

_Jesus, he was surrounded by monsters._

“Home sweet home,” Erica breathed in his ear a little while later, sliding up to him and pressing her lips against his throat. “Be a good boy and we won’t have to hurt you. OK?”

“Sure thing,” Stiles said, leaning away from her very much unwanted touch. She didn’t push, thankfully and Isaac kept his distance, even though he kept shooting aborted glances at Stiles.

They stopped in front of a nondescript building and Boyd cut the engine. Stiles remained very still as everyone got out of the car, flinching just a little when Isaac caught his bicep and pulled him outside. He really, really wanted to stretch his sore muscles, but given the way he was immediately being dragged towards the house it was unlikely he was going to get any relief. Apparently the wolves didn't suffer from something as simple as sore muscles and aches.

The door opened with a loud bang and Stiles stumbled to stop as a tall blonder woman sauntered out of the front door and immediately fisted her hand through Scott’s hair. She was older but still beautiful. She looked pissed.

“Where the hell have you been?” She snarled, shaking him so hard she literally pulled him off his feet.

“Get off me,” he hissed, gnashing his teeth as he gripped her wrist and twisted hard enough that Stiles was pretty sure he heard a snap. He fell back to the ground in a crouch and honest to god roared.

The woman grabbed her wrist and snapped the bones back into place with ease. She visibly composed herself before pointing a perfectly manicured finger in Scott’s face. “I’ll ask you again, boy. Where have you been?”

“We got waylaid,” Scott said, suddenly looking like a chastised little boy.

Stiles must have twitched or something. The woman’s glowing red eyes locked onto him with sudden and unnerving intensity. A small frown turned down the corners of her generous mouth. “What is _that_?”

“That is the reason we were late,” Erika said, clipping Stiles around the back of the head. “The little sweetie here belongs to the beacon hills sheriff.”

“Then why isn’t it dead?” she asked, her voice full of acid as she stepped towards him, one of her extended claws reaching for him.

Stiles fight or flight instincts kicked in and he tried to pull free. Stupid, when he was literally surrounded by werewolves.

“Wait,” Scott said, stepping in front of Stiles. “Kate, scent him.”

“I’m sure he smells divine, my love, but now is not the time to bring home a new pet.”

“No, _scent him_. Can’t you sense it?”

She battered Scott aside, walked up to Stiles, grabbed his hair and dragged his head back. Stiles totally didn’t whimper when she pressed her face into his neck and inhaled. _Oh god, she was going to rip his throat out._

“Oh, Scotty,” she said and Stiles could feel her smiling against his neck. “You good, good boy. What have you brought us?”


End file.
